


by the light of his eyes

by TheLodgersEnthusiast (Morgan_Molliniere)



Series: The Spirits of London At Night AU [1]
Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M, Oops, also i...kind of gave away the twist in the tags, anyway, based off of the 1933 Invisible Man movie but in name only, that's the best possible way i can sum this up, well sort of original characters?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 23:37:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18186995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgan_Molliniere/pseuds/TheLodgersEnthusiast
Summary: It wasn't every night that Griffin went down to the seedy parts of the city.(Inspired by an AU made by my Discord friends!)





	by the light of his eyes

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering why exactly I would write such a story, the answer is an AU made by my Discord friends. This fic is an introduction to a series of fics I've made about the concept because I love it so much! ....I'm not entirely sure who exactly to give credit to, but I'm sure it's one of my old pals from the J&H Discord.
> 
> There are a lot of references to media about The Invisible Man, namely the novel and the 1933 movie. Which is mainly because I was going for a multichaptered fic about Griffin, but I ended up having to scrap the Griffin storyline. It's kind of a letdown, but this was in favor of writing more stories about the strange(ly interesting) setting itself.
> 
> Anyway, expect more to come!
> 
> And if the writing seems a little wonky, that's because I wrote this quite some time ago.

It wasn't every night that Griffin went down to the seedy parts of the city.

He would have justified his decision by saying that he was simply looking around, that he was curious, that he had nothing better to do. And it was true in a way – but the real reason was that he was meaning to get rid of his own bottled up feelings.

And by God, he knew that he would have a lot of them. Especially now that tonight was his last night in London – the following morning he would have to go back to Chesilstowe, where the overbearing professor he had to work with and the students that he had to teach awaited him. The only thing worse than going back to those people was that his research would go no further – now that his friend's father Dr. Cranley had refused to fund him.

And why?

 

* * *

 

“Invisibility?” Dr. Cranley laughed. “You're studying invisibility, my boy?”

Griffin frowned as the old man started to chuckle at the table. “You're wasting your time, Jack! Why not study optics for other purposes, like eyeglass lenses or mirrors or-or...” Unable to name anything else, he continued, “Don't go chasing after the unrealistic. If you did, then what would become of my daughter under your care?”

He gestured to said daughter, who didn't react to the attention called. She was, however, looking concerned, and Griffin turned his eyes to her as well.

“Father, I think it's a nice undertaking,” she tried to say.

“Of course you would, Flora, young women like you chase after fantasies,” her father replied. “But Jack, it's time you studied a science that actually brought you money!”

“It is going to bring me money,” Griffin insisted, picking at his food, keeping his eyes on Flora. “Everything about lenses and that codswallop has already been done. Invisibility can yield a new breakthrough – one that will bring me a fortune!”

“Do you genuinely believe that?” Dr. Cranley asked. “What if you don't get a breakthrough? What will become of you then?” He took in another bite of food, chewed, and swallowed, before continuing, “I am only asking you this because I want to know how you're going to support my daughter and the family you will soon have! You should think about all these things while you're still young, Jack.”

“I am thinking about it,” Griffin said, “have been for three years now. I know I'm heading towards something fantastic!”

Flora's expression seemed to brighten a little – Griffin guessed it was his own enthusiasm that made her do so. Glancing back at her, he rested his fist gently on the table.

Dr. Cranley seemed to notice the look on his daughter's face as well, before huffing. “You youth; you're always looking for the fantastic when what you need is a steady job!” he complained. “Illustrious dreams never got us anywhere.”

“If that's true, then how was the steam engine made?” Griffin shot back, his food now abandoned. “You've got to give me a chance!”

“Hmph! And fund your foolishness, when you're already working as a teacher?” Dr. Cranley said. “Why couldn't you be more like your father? He's an honest, hardworking man – contented with his lot in life! You would do well to learn from him!”

That did the trick. Griffin stood up from his seat, and walked out of the dining room. Dr. Cranley watched him storm out, while Flora called out to him. But he pretended not to hear.  


* * *

 

 

In anger, Griffin kicked a rock on the ground, and it hit a wall before shooting back at him. It beaned him on the head, and he yelped, holding the aching part of his head. Hopefully that wouldn't make a bruise – but the bruise was the last thing on his mind.

Why couldn't that old man see that what he was serious about what he was doing? That his research would change his life? It would be fine, he could succeed at what he was doing! He just needed more money...

Maybe he could go to his father for the money. Sure, he wasn't on the best of terms with his father as of the moment – dropping medicine suddenly and taking up physics wasn't the kind of thing that brought father and son closer to each other. But he was desperate – he wanted to accomplish this research on his own, and the only other person he could think of to go to for help didn't even believe he could do it.

Griffin huffed, pushing his hands into his coat pockets. And Dr. Cranley was the one who had brought him to London – granted, mainly for Griffin to see his daughter, whom he had promised to marry in the naïve days of his childhood; but also to see how he was doing.

That argument over dinner was the first of many – throughout his week-long stay Griffin had tried to convince Dr. Cranley to see things his way, that he wasn't making a big mistake. But the doctor only called his words the “ramblings of youth”, whatever that meant. And now he was at his wit's end.

At least Flora believed in him. Coming from the same small town, they were childhood friends, but had not seen each other since Griffin left to study in London. And their feelings towards each other had changed, since they were both adolescents – but Flora wanted to see his dreams come true at least. Unfortunately, her attempts to persuade her father were ignored as well.

“You wouldn't even be able to see it, if he managed!” Dr. Cranley had said to her. “You're literally blind!”

He looked up at the building that the rock had hit, and saw the bright lights coming in from the tiny windows. The music from inside was lively – and the laughter from inside even more so. Griffin then turned his head up to the sign hanging above the door, which read “The Spirits of London at Night”.

Griffin read it over, before realizing that this was probably a pub. He walked over to the door, and pulled it open. He had money in his pockets, and he could use a drink.

 

* * *

 

“I'm sorry that we can't convince Father,” Flora told Griffin, as they were sitting on the bed of her room. “I really tried, too...”

“Well, your old man's stubborn,” Griffin said, crossing his arms. “Should have guessed that he wouldn't be willing to fund it after six damned days of arguing.”

Flora tried to smile. “That's my father for you. He won't take risks unless there's something he knows he can win. Which isn't that big a risk at all.”

Griffin turned his eyes to her. She was absently petting his white cat, while said cat purred against her lap. Before she could notice the silence between them, he looked away, and spoke again.

“Your father probably wishes I stuck with medicine, for you,” he said. Then he cracked a smile. “Does he still make you drink those miracle cures that they peddle on the streets?”

“Two tablespoons every night,” Flora replied with a smile of her own.

They both laughed quietly, before Griffin drummed his fingers against the bed, looking at her. “So you still don't go out of the house very often,” he commented. “You're even paler than I am, if that's possible.”

“I doubt my skin is as pale as yours,” Flora said. “And besides, what's there to see outside?”

“Nothing interesting, actually,” he answered. “Just people going about their ordinary lives.”

“Dreadful,” Flora said jokingly. Then her smile faded a little. “I do want to see the world, though...if only to see your research come to fruition. I wouldn't want to miss that.” She stopped stroking the cat. “You're very dear to me, Jack.”

Griffin looked down. “...You're not still...hung up on our promise, are you?”

“Of course not,” Flora replied quietly. “Why, I don't even love you that way. I could imagine a future with us married, but that's the worst case scenario.”

“Mm-hmm.” Griffin clicked his tongue. “I don't think I love you either.” Then he did a double take. “But what have I ever done to you that you would think of marrying me as the worst case scenario?”

Flora only laughed.

“It's not funny!”

“It is funny,” she said. Then she sighed. “I just wish I could give you the needed funds. Then you would be able to carry on with your research without hesitation.”

“Guess I'll steal from your father then,” Griffin told her.

“What? No! If you're joking, then _that's_ not funny,” Flora returned. “Just promise me you'll get the money and succeed. Through honorable means.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Griffin rolled his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Well, he hadn't really promised Flora, had he? Maybe he would get the money through less honorable means after all. This thought was in his mind as he came into the pub.

The moment Griffin entered the pub, he saw a decent number of people drinking heartily and telling tales to each other, all while surrounded by masked men and women...dressed in revealing clothing.

Oh, fuck him. He had gone to a pub that doubled as a brothel.

He frowned, and then reached for the door. He didn't need to be in such a place – but then he stopped as his hand brushed against the doorknob.

Why shouldn't he be here? He was trying to get rid of unwanted feelings, after all. And besides, he didn't have to stare at the...employees if he didn't want to. He could just order a pint and be done with it. Okay, maybe two pints. So what – he wasn't doing anything wrong.

Griffin moved away from the door, and took off his hat. He looked around, and then walked over to the counter of the pub, where the bartender had finished preparing a drink. He placed it down on the counter, in front of a girl, who winked at him. He winked back at her, and then looked at Griffin.

“Hey, old man!” he said. “What can we do you for?”

“I'm not old,” Griffin replied bluntly. Not like it was too much of a bother for him anymore – even though he was only twenty-seven, he got that all the time.

“Sure, then,” the bartender said, rolling his eyes. “D'you want a pint of beer?”

“I guess,” Griffin said, taking a seat at the counter. With that, the bartender turned around, and began to pour out a pint. Griffin sighed, and rested his chin in his hand. He noticed that the bartender was wearing a mask over his face, which didn't distract very much from the tight waistcoat he was wearing. On the other hand, said waistcoat was very distracting.

Griffin noticed what he was staring at, and then shook his head. Fuck, he was doing it again. Sure, this didn't happen as often as it did while he was in university, but it still happened – he caught himself staring at other men. And not in an innocent, curious way or an annoyed way.

The bartender brought him his drink, and he took a sip. It was then that another masked man walked up to the counter, and stood beside Griffin, leaning on the counter. “Everything in order here, Lightning?” he asked.

“Of course, Clockwork!” the bartender said. “You should remember that I'm one of the people who can best mix a drink!”

Griffin watched the two men as they began to talk about how business was good tonight, at least for the bartender. Lightning and Clockwork? Those were stage names, most likely. His eyes wandered to the second man, and he paused, the beer raised in the air yet not touching his mouth.

The man was also wearing a tight-fitting waistcoat, not to mention that his pants were a size too snug as well. The mask did hide a good bit of the man's face, but it did nothing to conceal the man's crooked smile, or draw attention away from his shapely neck. And, lord, two buttons on his shirt were unfastened, leaving his collarbone and tanned skin exposed...it was so hard not to stare at him...

The man stopped talking, and then turned to Griffin, having noticed him staring. Griffin nearly spilled his drink on himself, blushing madly.

“Hey, are you alright, sir?” the bartender asked. “Want anything?”

Griffin stammered a little, before catching himself and placing the drink down on the counter. Fuck, he had just been caught gawking at a rent boy.

“...This drink isn't agreeing with me,” he said, looking down and pushing up his eyeglasses.

“Oh, we could take you outside for some fresh air,” the man said.

“It's fine, I can do it myself,” Griffin told him, getting up from his seat. He put a hand in his pocket to fish out the money for the beer, and placed it down on the counter.

“You're sure?” the man asked. “Your face is all red. You're not going to collapse, are you?”

“Jesus, don't coddle me,” Griffin cursed, wrapping his coat tighter around himself. “Why are you being so nice to me, anyway?”

“Of course, if we see someone in need, we have to help them,” the man replied.

“ 'In need'? Is that what they're calling it now?” Griffin said, before turning towards the door.

He exited the pub, and went back out onto the street. However, he had barely gone six paces away from the building when someone called after him.

“Wait! Sir!”

Griffin sighed, and turned around to see the man come out from the pub. Upon seeing the man, he did turn a little nervous again, but he hid it away with a frown.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“You forgot this,” the man said, holding out Griffin's hat. Griffin took it, a little surprised that he had forgotten it – he must have left it back on the pub's counter.

“Listen, I understand if you were uncomfortable around me; we get that all the time,” the man said. “You must have come to our lovely establishment for something, and left without getting it. But I hope you find it somewhere else, at least.”

Griffin put his hat on, lowering the brim and wondering if his heated face would be visible in the streetlight. “Why are you still being nice to me?” he asked.

The man shrugged. “Well, we're not all only in it for the money,” he said. “Though some money would be nice.”

“Yeah,” Griffin said, briefly reminded of his own predicament. “It would be.”

He then stared at the man for a while, feeling something flutter in his stomach. Maybe it was the way the man was looking at him, with brilliant green eyes that were contrasted by the black of his mask. Griffin felt a little off upon realizing that.

“Sir?” the man asked, a little hesitantly.

There was something wrong with Griffin, no doubt. He wasn't supposed to be staring at another man like this, he wasn't supposed to have a fluttering in his stomach right now. He was supposed to like women – and sure, he wasn't romantically interested in Flora, but right now she was the only chance he had, and he ought to treat her well.

And, oh no, here he was, looking with immoral intent at a rent boy.

Tonight was his last night in London, though. He could afford to enjoy himself, lose himself in the worldly pleasures that he denied himself in favor of his work. And neither Flora nor Dr. Cranley would have to know, they would never see him here.

“How-how much do you...charge for a night?” Griffin stuttered, hesitant.

“Pardon?” the man asked.

Griffin swallowed. “I'm interested in having you for the night.”

There, he said it. His face was as red as a tomato, he could feel it. He wondered if he looked quite stupid, even to a stranger. But all that the man did was chuckle good-naturedly.

“You've never asked someone to spend the night with you before, have you?” he asked. Then he waved Griffin over. “We can negotiate prices later. There are private rooms in the back if you don't want to take me home.”

Taking the man home was definitely not an option, so Griffin took up the offer. He followed the man to the back of the building, where there was a set of three doors. The man took him to the first one, and pulled out a key from his pocket. He unlocked the door, and then opened it, letting Griffin go inside the room first.

When he did go inside the room, he looked around at the furnishings. There was a small bed, but not much else, save for a table with a few materials on it that Griffin couldn't quite identify save for a container of petroleum jelly and a few towels. He walked over to the table, and picked up the container, examining it. Then without putting the container down, he placed a hand down on the bed. It squeaked a little.

“Sorry, this is the best we could do,” the man said, shutting the door and locking it behind them. “It's not cheap to run such a place, not to mention the money–” The man cut himself off before he could go further.

“What's with the money?” Griffin asked, placing the container down. Then he turned around to face his companion. “You lot wouldn't spend it on...”

He trailed off, before his jaw dropped. The man in front of him was already removing his waistcoat. Instead of freezing as well, though, the man continued to strip. Griffin sucked in a breath, and the man smiled.

“What's the matter?” he asked. “Did you not expect me to get ready to give you a shag?”

“I – uh–” There had to be some way Griffin could save this. “I knew that, I just wouldn't expect you to be taking off your clothes while I'm talking.”

“Oh, that,” the man said, already unbuttoning his shirt, the waistcoat having been thrown carelessly to the floor. “We stop for nothing in this establishment. Besides, you're the one who wanted this and asked for my services.”

Griffin looked down at himself, still clothed even up to the hat. Should he follow in kind? He was indeed the one who had asked for this. And just watching the other man caused him to feel something strange in his pants. Well, he knew what it was, but...

“Unless, I was right in my assumption that you've never asked anyone to spend the night with you.” The man raised his eyebrows. He opened his shirt, and then took it off. “You a virgin?”

Griffin tried to say something, but his voice cracked at the sight of the now shirtless man. His arousal was growing now, and he pressed his legs together, clutching at his coat.

The man stepped closer to him, and though he was a little shorter than Griffin, the latter felt trapped between him and the table. He looked down at the man, who was still smiling up at him. That was a good sign.

“Why would you want your first time to be with me?” he asked gently.

“It's none of your business,” Griffin spat. He shifted his feet uncomfortably. “I just want to try something else, that's all.”

“Mm.” The man put a hand on Griffin's shoulder, and he tensed at the touch, before the man slid it down his arm. Griffin then found himself relaxing as the man rested his hand on Griffin's, and intertwined their hands.

“This job was me wanting to try something else, too,” the man said quietly. “Do you want me to show you what sex feels like?”

Griffin stared down at him, before gulping. The way the man said the last word caused his erection to throb. “Yes. Yes, fine.”

“Well, then, you get out of your clothes,” the man said, letting go of Griffin's hand, “and I'll get out of mine.” He took a step back, and then gestured for him to go on.

Griffin looked down at his hand, before turning his eyes up to the man. “You're still wearing your mask,” he said.

“Privacy reasons,” the man replied. “You wouldn't want to recognize me on the street, would you?”

“If you see it that way – do you have to be watching me?” Griffin went on, turning away from the other man. “I am capable of undressing myself.”

“I'll look away, then,” his companion said, before turning around. Griffin heard the shuffle of clothes, and then sighed out of his nose.

He took off his overcoat first, and then placed his hat down on the table. Then he slid his jacket off his shoulders, and kicked off his shoes, before removing his socks and his suspenders as well. He removed all subsequent articles of clothing, and then when he was done he looked down at himself – he had a sore erection already, and his skin was so pale. He rubbed at the skin on his arms a little; he hoped the other man wouldn't find it too strange at least. Then again, he had seen his white hair, already unusual for a young man to have.

“Are you ready?” the man asked from behind him.

Griffin took a deep breath, and turned around.

He had certainly not mentally prepared himself for the image of the man wearing nothing but his mask. There was so much skin to see...not to mention that his body was well shaped; and then Griffin's eyes fell on his exposed cock, which was beginning to harden as well.

“Like what you see?” the man asked, chuckling. “You, on the other hand, look almost like a ghost.”

“It comes with albinism,” Griffin remarked, pushing some of his clothes on the floor to the side.

“Oh, so you really aren't an old man,” the other man said. “The white hair had kind of confused me.”

Griffin sighed in annoyance. “Can we do this or not?”

The man put up his hands. “Sorry, sorry,” he said. “It's fine if you have such a condition. So, how do you want to do this, sir?”

“Call me Griffin,” Griffin said. “Not that I don't want this sir business, it just feels wrong in this situation.”

“Griffin,” the man repeated.

Thinking the other's question over, Griffin sat down on the bed. “I don't know,” he said. “The only thing I want is for you to show me a good time.”

That sounded sort of ridiculous coming out of his mouth, but once again the other man didn't seem to mind. “Is that so?” he asked, coming closer. “Then stay seated.” He stopped in front of Griffin, quite close, and leaned down to look him in the eye.

“I'm going to show you a good time, alright.”

Then he leaned forward and kissed Griffin.

At this point Griffin was still quite tense, but then the man gently  took his shoulders, and pulled him closer so that his lips were pressing harder. That caused him to push back, and suddenly the feeling was overwhelming him.

He had been kissed before, but that past kiss wasn't something he wanted to remember. This, on the other hand...he wanted this.

Soon the other man had to pull back, and the two of them were able to catch their breaths. Griffin was absently aware of the warmth of the man's hands on his shoulders, and the soreness of his cock between his legs.

“Tell me if I should stop,” the man said, before leaning back in and pressing his lips against Griffin's jaw. Griffin's breath hitched, and the man began to run his lips down his neck, teeth brushing against his skin, while the hands on his shoulders slowly moved down his arms.

Oh, God, he _wanted_ this.

The man then moved his lips down to Griffin's chest, earning a few soft whimpers from him. The hands had released Griffin's wrists, and were now stroking his thighs as they moved to his knees. Griffin looked down at the man as his lips finally touched his navel, and his hands spread his knees apart. At this sight, Griffin couldn't help but let out a low moan.

The man finally pulled away from Griffin's skin, and looked up at him. Again, Griffin's attention was caught on the man's green eyes.

“Lie down,” the man instructed. Normally Griffin didn't take too kindly to following instructions, but he didn't know what else he could do – and besides, there was the unsaid promise of more pleasure. So he did as he was told, and reclined all the way back.

“Mm,” the man said, standing up. “There you go.” He leaned forward and placed his hands on either side of Griffin, breathing heavily. Griffin stared up at him, before looking down – the man's penis was almost touching his own. Without even thinking, Griffin reached out between them and grabbed the man's length.

He thought the surprised noise that came out of the man's mouth quite amusing, and with that the other man looked down as well for a bit, before grinning. “So, you aren't so shy,” the man said.

Griffin responded by stroking him, a little unsure of what he should do, before he heard what was no doubt whines of pleasure. The man was holding the bedsheets tighter, and giving him half-lidded eyes that were still oh so breathtaking.

“That's good...” he breathed, “...very good.”

The throb of his own erection brought Griffin back to his own problem, and he whined a little as well. The man's eyes turned down to it, and he managed to move a hand down to stop Griffin from touching him any further.

“I'm not done yet,” he said. “I need to make you release.” The man sat up, taking Griffin's legs out from underneath him, and reached for the container of petroleum jelly atop the table. He opened it, and then looked at his client. “So, which position do you want to be in?”

“What're you going to do?” Griffin asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Something against the law,” the man replied bluntly. “Then again, what I'm doing right now ensures that I'm against the law.”

Griffin frowned. “If this is a trick...”

The man looked him in the eye, keeping a straight face on. “Do you want to take me, or do you want to be the one being penetrated?”

Oh. _Oh._

“I-I'm not going to do that!” Griffin exclaimed.

“You don't want it?” the man asked.

“I – no, I–”

“Are you concerned that it's wrong?” the man asked. “Or if it'll hurt?”

Griffin pressed his lips together, trying to think of something to say. He was about to refuse some more, when he looked down at himself. He had already come so far, and he wanted to release, so why stop now? He was going to have to pay up no matter what he chose, anyway.

“...I'm not concerned about it,” he lied. “Do whatever you want with me.”

“If you don't tell me what you want, Griffin, I can't do my job,” the man retorted.

At the sound of his name, Griffin blushed. He guessed he ought to give a proper answer. “Take me, then,” he said, laying back down. As much as he wanted to crawl over the man and do anything he wanted with him – he wanted to see those eyes stare at him in pleasure again – he didn't want to make a complete fool out of himself. He still had no idea what he was doing.

“That's more like it.”

The man then scooped up a fair amount of petroleum jelly, and rubbed it over two of his fingers. “Spread your legs for me, Griffin,” he said.

As Griffin did so, the man positioned himself between his legs, and warned, “Prepare yourself.” Then he took a hold of his entrance, and spread it open, before placing one digit inside him.

Griffin was not proud of the loud gasp that came out of his mouth.

And what was more, soon the next finger was inside, widening his entrance and causing him to writhe under the touch. He couldn't help moaning a little louder this time, and he raised a hand to his mouth to cover it. It took a few moments for him to get used to feeling something inside him, and already he wanted more.

(It was a wonder he had been able to last this long, honestly.)

The man took the fingers out, and readjusted his mask with his other hand before reaching for the petroleum jelly yet again. Griffin watched him from between his legs, as the other man rubbed the substance onto his penis.

“Are you ready?” the man asked, in a low, husky voice.

Griffin stared at the erection for a few seconds, before he nodded.

The man grabbed onto his hips, and pushed inside him.

The only thing more humiliating than Griffin's loud gasp earlier was the moan that came from him when he felt the man enter. He bit down on one of the fingers that was over his mouth, trying to manage the sensation.

“Oh, are you alright?” the man asked, trying to smile.

Griffin felt he should have considered that an insult, but he was too busy focusing on the feeling that was filling him up. “I'm...ah...” he tried to say in between pants. “...I'm fine, please...”

Lord, did he really sound that desperate? Here he was, looking like a proper needy bitch as he was being fucked, by a man he barely even knew. But said man didn't even say anything about the look on his face; he only took it as a sign to begin moving, and so he rolled his hips and pulled out before pushing back in.

Even at a slow pace, it was enough for Griffin to come undone. He could barely concentrate on anything other than the cock coming in and out of him, and how good the man felt inside of him, how goddamn _beautiful_ he was...oh, mercy...

“Fuck, fuck,” Griffin whimpered as he lowered his hand – it was sore and bruised from him biting down on it. “Fuck me, please...”

The man above him was doing no better either, moaning and bucking into him faster and harder, gripping his hips tightly. Whatever Griffin could see of his face was flushed, and sweat was shining on his skin. Seeing his companion in the same state made him feel a little less ashamed of all the faces he was no doubt making, and his hold on the sheets grew even tighter.

Even so soon, he was quickly losing himself to the heat of the moment, and it was only a matter of time before he couldn't take it anymore. He cried out as he finally orgasmed, trying to catch his breath. Griffin cracked open his eyes, and saw the man continuing to thrust into him while he did so, trying to reach his climax as well.

Just as Griffin was finally spent, the man finally hit his limit as well, coming inside him. He continued to ride his release, filling him up to the brim, and Griffin whined.

Once the man was finished, he pulled out, panting. Griffin noted that he himself was a bit sore and also in need of air, not disregarding the mess of semen that he was covered in. He propped himself up on his elbows again, and tried to press his legs together again, wincing at the strange sensation.

The man turned away from him, so that Griffin couldn't see his face. He did, however, see the man remove his mask for a bit and wipe off the sweat that had no doubt collected underneath it, before putting it back on and turning towards him.

“You look like a mess,” the man said, in a joking tone.

“I am a mess,” Griffin replied tiredly, running a hand through his now scruffy hair. He then lowered a hand to rub his forehead – wait, where were his glasses? He didn't have much time to wonder about it, though, before the man took a towel from the table and gave it to him.

“Here. You can't go home looking like that, of course,” the man said.

Griffin didn't even thank him; he just took up the towel and began to wipe off the spill. He did this in silence, before finishing and putting down the towel. In front of him, the man was wiping himself off as well with another towel.

“So, I guess this is the part where you blackmail me,” Griffin said, crossing his arms.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” the man said, putting down his towel. “I'll keep your secret, as long as you give me all the money in your pockets, and then some.”

Griffin gaped. “Are you fucking serious?!”

The man laughed. “I'm kidding!” he said, putting his hands up, showing off his crooked grin once more. “I wouldn't blackmail you, I'm not that kind of person.”

“Right, and I'm going to be able to turn myself invisible,” Griffin said, in a sarcastic tone.

The man looked at him with some curiosity. “Well, are you?”

Griffin regarded him for a moment. Should he tell this stranger about his life's work? He didn't even know this man's real name. Then again, it wasn't like he was going to meet him again.

“If I make enough progress,” Griffin said. “But damn it all – I don't have enough money to be able to continue my research. I have to find a way to purchase more equipment, and continue my work.” He sighed. “Of course, you wouldn't understand, because you wouldn't know the kind of science I'm working in.”

The man had been watching him with interest, before he got up from the bed. “Actually...I think I do,” he said, walking over to his pile of clothes on the floor.

He picked up his waistcoat, and then took a small card out of it, before handing it to Griffin. “Why don't you join the Society for Arcane Sciences, here in London? Experimental investigators like you are always welcome there.”

Griffin took the card, and looked down at it. A society for mad science in London? That sounded strange – he had taken great pains to hide his research from everyone in Chesilstowe not only because he wanted to publish it himself, but also because he might be branded a mad scientist and thrown in jail. And now there was an organization for it in the city? Who would be mad enough to run such a society?

“You could meet with the famed Dr. Henry Jekyll so he could set you up with some help,” the man went on, as if responding to his mental question. Then he lowered his voice. “Of course, don't tell him you heard it from me.”

Griffin blinked, and then put down the card. The idea of staying in London, with means to continue his research...it did seem tempting...

“So, how much are you going to pay me?”

Griffin looked up. “Huh?”

“The price. We have to negotiate it,” the man said, already beginning to put on his pants.

Griffin thought about the amount of money in his pockets, and groaned. He would probably end up coughing up everything after all.


End file.
